


Chococo Kiss

by SEpupppupp (ForNought)



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Rainz (Korea Band)
Genre: M/M, Public Nudity, alcohol mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 15:15:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12890649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForNought/pseuds/SEpupppupp
Summary: prompt 315: My job is to pop out of birthday cakes (nakedly) but they wheeled me into the wrong room and birthday boy doesn’t look like he’s getting married. (“Uh, is this the bachelorette party?”)





	Chococo Kiss

Eunki is brilliant at his job. There is a lot more to jumping out of cakes than people realise. There are factors such as timing the jump and hitting the right pose to think about. One of the hardest parts is listening through the cake (which is mostly plastic with sections of actual cake that Eunki is supposed to feed to the lucky bachelorette and maybe smear it on her strategically to titillate her and her friends) and working out just when to burst through the paper lid of the cake in all his naked glory.

Except when Eunki yells “surprise!” and makes sure the blushing bride-to-be gets an eyeful of his impressive glutes, Eunki discovers something has gone horribly wrong.

Because there is a lot to consider when jumping out of cakes naked for a living, to make sure that everything runs smoothly everything must be planned to the very last detail. And it usually helps to have the cake wheeled into the right room.

Very slowly, Eunki shrinks back into the safety of the cake. Being naked doesn't usually make Eunki feel this cold but by this point he should be dancing and gyrating and being a lot sexier than this. Right now the chill he feels is stronger than the blast of the air conditioning alone as he tries not to look through the glutinous silence of the room. Everything glistens stickily with the honey of wealth - diamonds dewy on ears, ropes of pearls wound around necks, Italian leather hugging feet, Egyptian cotton clinging to torsos, silks, satins and gossamers in a spectrum of shades delighting sweetly upon the bodies of dozens of people who stare transfixed at Eunki and his cake.  

“Wow!” Someone gasps. Eunki tries not to look for his own sanity but he can only cover so much at once. His eyes and ears lose out to his privates and it is very difficult for him not to hear the hopeful, “Did someone get me a man for my birthday? How thoughtful!”

“Why would someone get you a man for your birthday, you idiot!” Someone hisses back. Another voice calls out, “I would have got you a man if I had known that was what you wanted.”

The bubble of silence in the room bursts and in flows more air to make goosebumps erupt over Eunki’s skin. It takes him a while to realise that the wagging of some tongues in the syrupy air are speaking other languages. How wonderful. This terrible thing that has never happened to Eunki before is apparently hilarious in any language.

Eunki would love to leave but he is stranded, buoying uselessly amongst the glimmering gold of the private hall at the hotel he can't afford to even buy a drink from under normal circumstances (today he had considered enjoying the rider of drinks and exotic snacks provided by the maid-of-honour who had arranged for him to jump out of the cake for a lady who should be flustered beyond belief right now at Eunki in all of his perfectly muscled glory. He had decided to forgo the temptation of Dutch-courage to encourage repeat custom from the group, but downing a few shots of sambuca or miniature bottles of whisky would have taken the edge off being in these treacled doldrums). Whoever foolishly wheeled Eunki into the wrong room has vanished and Eunki isn't certain he is quite ready to haul himself out of his saccharine sanctuary and tow it from the room himself. There is only so much humiliation Eunki can cope with while stark naked.

As frosty as the air conditioning is, Eunki is sweating enough to hope that he somehow dissolves himself in the solute of his own chagrin. He immediately wishes to stop sweating (but the desire to dissolve into nothingness intensifies) when bright eyes peer over the rim of the cake. After a moment, crystalline white teeth drawn into a smile complete the delightful expression on a face that is a bit too handsome.

“Wow!” It is the same voice from before and Eunki wishes that it wasn't a fact so easy to ascertain. He smiles awkwardly, politely, because this man might be his only way out. “Are you for me?” Or not.

“There is a bride somewhere in this hotel. I am supposed to dance for her.”

The man’s face sours slightly and he smacks his lips impatiently before trying on another candied countenance. “You're getting married?”

“I'm not getting married,” Eunki says slowly.

“Then why do you have a bride? That's a lady, right? A wife?”

Eunki has never been so glad to be questioned so enthusiastically about the meaning of a word. Until the thing he is being distracted from pushes through the glaze of confusion and the man's eyes flit too far south for Eunki’s liking. He readjusts the shield of his hands and the man apologises quickly before repeating his question about wives.

“You're right about the meaning but I am not getting married. I don't know the woman,” Eunki explains. This situation could be so much worse if he was getting married and this was some coy show for someone he loved rather than being another day at the office. Of course the situation could be a lot less embarrassing and he could be thrusting his hips for some shamelessly screaming women instead of cowering away from children and the elderly in his candy shell. “I am supposed to dance for the woman.”

It is as simple an explanation as any. It excludes the parts about plucking banknotes from between women's bosoms with his teeth and inviting them to chase rivulets of chocolate sauce down his chest with their tongues, so it sounds somewhat respectable. It makes the man's eyes crackle with interest and Eunki focuses on that rather than the sullen looking teenager within earshot who seems to be complaining (Eunki doesn't speak a word of Mandarin and his high school foreign language lessons had mostly been unscheduled naptimes but whiny teenagers transcend the need for semantic understanding) to a woman who only lends him half an ear as she downs flutes of champagne.

“You dance?”

“That's right. I jump out of cakes and dance.”

“I like dancing,” the man says wistfully. He perks up, jolted by a sugar rush, and says, “Will you dance for me?”

Eunki frowns. There are children (and sulky teenagers) present. “I don't think that would be age appropriate.”

“Hm?” the man doesn't look particularly bothered by the same things as Eunki and he wishes he could taste that same freedom, fastened into designer clothes and unencumbered by trivial things like nudity around children. He leans closer over the lip of the cake and globs of icing from real sections of cake cling to his sleeves. “Today is my birthday. I like dancing.”

“I am very naked.”

The man's eyes widen as though he hadn't noticed at all in the time they were talking. How ridiculous! For the past five minutes he has been hugging the line between ogling and polite indifference way too tightly for his reaction to the news to be genuine. Oblivious to Eunki’s irritation the man continues the deceit. “That's right! You're naked! Let's go to my room!”

The woman chugging champagne splutters loudly and the sherbet tingle of scandalised titters coats the room. Eunki can hear the way the message is transmitted and he can see the arched eyebrows and gaping mouths as the man's words are picked and mixed into a satisfactory translation.

Eunki sighs. This man is not at all helpful. He doesn't care that he sounds terse as he says, “What?”

“Let's go to my room! I have lots of clothes! Too many clothes!”

“I have clothes too,” Eunki says. The man looks sceptical at that and his gaze deliberately drops to Eunki’s lap once more. “Obviously I’m not wearing them. They’re in my room.”

“Are you sure?”

The man could have been asking if Eunki had clothes at all as easily as wondering whether there really are any in his alleged room.

“Of course I have clothes.”

“Of course,” the man agrees blandly. “But you probably still need help with them.”

Eunki is about to ask what on earth that is supposed to mean when the cake jolts, the wheels squealing against the brakes, and the man grins up at him happily.

“What are you doing?” Eunki asks.

“Yes, what are you doing?” A perplexed young man asks. He is as smartly dressed as everyone else but he doesn’t wear the garb quite so effortlessly. Eunki thinks it might be because he is yet to shed the burden of his teens. He tugs awkwardly at the cuffs of his blazer as he approaches the man. His gaze is very decidedly away from Eunki, which is nice in a way, but he still flushes with raspberry as he steps closer.

“We’re leaving,” the man says cheerfully as he gives the cake another shove.

“But why?” the adolescent asks. “This is your party. Your family even flew over from China to celebrate with you.”

The man looks pensive for a moment before sending a wide smile up to Eunki. Eunki smiles back, though he isn't sure why. The man turns back to his awkward friend and says, “We might return.”

“Might?”

The cake rolls as the cheery man shoves in earnest. Eunki winces as the cake scrapes against the door but he doesn't think the man can hear what damage he is doing as he calls broken phrases into the banquet hall as they depart. They are some way down the corridor before Eunki is addressed once more.

“Mr Dancer, where am I taking you?”

It is lucky that the man had initially set off in the right direction, otherwise Eunki couldn’t be sure how his enthusiastic companion would have rectified the mistake.

“To the end of the corridor. That is where my room is.”

The man stops and the cake decelerates with a small squeak.

“I have been to this side of the corridor before.” The man doesn't sound too happy about that and when Eunki shuffles around in the cake he sees that the man is frowning. “There aren't any guest rooms here.”

“I’m not a guest at the hotel,” Eunki says.

“I don't want to go this way,” the man says. “We should go to my room instead.”

“But what about my clothes?”

“You can have some of my clothes instead and you can see how nice my room is. And then you can dance with me,” the man says decisively.

Eunki isn't certain that he would like to do much dancing with this man, not when he was being kidnapped in his cake all because someone took him to the wrong room. Eunki protests but the man doesn't seem to understand, though it is difficult to tell whether he is pretending not to know what he is being told. Eunki learns how the man rectifies his mistake and leans back as the man scrambles over the cake to reach the other side to start pushing from that side. They somehow get into the lift and Eunki considers making a run for it as soon as the doors slide open, nakedness be damned.

Eunki does not make a run for it because vaulting from the cake proves to be a scary thought and by the time he whisks up the courage, mind frothing nervously with concerns about the future of his cake and his business, they are on the move once more.  

They reach a wide set of doors with wrought gold embellishments coiling upwards and bearing gleaming fat fruits.

“Ah!” the man says as he coyly holds his room card to his chest. He smiles at Eunki like the most wonderful thought in the world has occurred to him. Eunki doubts that is the case. He steeps in dread while he waits for the man’s brilliance to bowl him over for the umpteenth time. “You aren't wearing any clothes.”

“That's right,” Eunki agrees tersely. Even with the expectation he finds himself annoyed. Exactly! He is naked! He would very much like to remedy that!

“It will be strange for you to come into my room if you aren't wearing any clothes.”

Eunki’s head aches.

“So why didn't you let me get my own clothes?”

The man shakes his head, smiling with citric brilliance as he says, “It is strange if we are strangers and we don't know each other's names. If you tell me your name you can come in.”

“Hong Eunki.” Haste to give his name does not translate into haste to open the door. Eunki lets his impatience simmer across his face before the man speaks.

“It is nice to meet you, Hong Eunki! I am called Zhu Zhengting! I am from China but I live here now and the students at the dance school I teach at call me Jungjung. Isn't that cute? You should call me Jungjung too!”

“Alright, Jungjung,” Eunki says quickly. “I would like to be less naked now.”

Zhengting delights at that and uses his card to unlock the room before giving the double doors a tremendous shove. The doors swing open to reveal a suite shaded in vanilla and cacao. Zhengting pushes the cake into the room and closes the door behind them.

“I will prepare you some clothes, Hong Eunki!” Zhengting says as he jogs across the room to the door that Eunki presumes leads to a bedroom. He remains in the cake and wonders how sobering it will be to wear clothes and have to pretend this wasn’t a good experience for him.

It is only as he waits for Zhengting to bring him clothes that he wonders what is happening with the bachelorette party and whether the bride-to-be is seething at her bridesmaids for losing the naked, gyrating man she had been promised. He hopes that they don’t mind too much because after this he doesn’t think he will be able to jump out of a cake again tonight. He has had enough of this cake for one day and he will work things out later when he is at home and kicking himself for losing out on some much needed cash.

“You look sad,” Zhengting says when he reappears with a garment bag slung across his forearms. He stands in front of Eunki holds up the garment bag proudly. “Don’t be sad! I have clothes for you!”

“I’m not sad. I’m just thinking,” Eunki says.

There is a sugared shimmer in Zhengting’s eyes as he asks, “What are you thinking about?”

It is silly of Eunki to feel like he can possess any sense of shame at a time like this. He has already made a massive blunder and burst out of a cake, naked, in front of lots of people that he shouldn’t have. He sighs and smiles gratefully at the sculpted sweetness of Zhengting’s curiosity.

“I am thinking about how normally I am very good at my job. I will have to find the party I was hired for and apologise for the inconvenience.”

Zhengting looks thoughtful for a moment and says, “You can jump out of the cake right now if that makes you feel better.”

Eunki can’t help the laugh that fizzes out of him, bubbles of nerves abrasive against the inside of his chest as they escape. “Why would I do that?”

“I can tell you how good you are at your job!” Zhengting says, aspartame brightness in his voice.

Eunki’s laugh tastes artificial in his mouth as he forces is out past his teeth. “Maybe some other time.”

Zhengting assures Eunki that he will be happy any time to watch Eunki jump out of the cake. Eunki can’t tell whether or not he is joking so he ignores that in favour of puzzling over the light dusting of pink across Zhengting’s cheeks as he offers a hand and hides his eyes in the crook of his arm.

“Are you getting out of the cake?” Zhengting asks. Eunki grasps the proffered hand, though it isn’t necessary. People pay Eunki to spring unassisted from cakes and he never has any problem with that. But Zhengting is being helpful - much more helpful that earlier when he effectively kidnapped Eunki while expressing disbelief over his claims to own clothes - so Eunki holds onto the hand tightly and climbs over the rim on the cake.

When Eunki is safely on the floor, Zhengting shoves the garment bag at Eunki and turns his back.

“You can get changed in the big bedroom. I went shopping today because it is my birthday, so I’m not being strange. Those clothes are new and there is also underwear. And socks. I can help you with shoes if you let me know when you’re finished.”

Eunki is still naked and he would very much like to not be but he stalls for a moment. The line of Zhengting’s back is much stiffer now than the airy softness of before. Eunki hold the bag in front of himself.

“You’ve changed suddenly,” Eunki says.

“No I haven’t!” Zhengting insists to the far wall. His voice crackles and Eunki frowns. He has definitely changed. Until now Zhengting had been sugar-shell impervious but somehow that cracked (Eunki wonders whether the pressure of his hands did this, squeezed until the fissures showed and warmed enough in that brief moment to soften the structure) and twisting vines of uncertainty are seeping out.

Eunki raises his hand and taps Zhengting on the shoulder. He jolts with jellied integrity and that is more than enough for Eunki to confirm his thoughts. “You couldn’t stop looking at me before. What changed?”

“Do you want me to look at you?” Zhengting asks hopefully. He shakes his head quickly before Eunki can reply. “Forget that. I was being rude. I remembered something and I realised I was being rude to you.”

Eunki is inclined to agree about Zhengting being rude but he is mostly wondering what crunched this realisation.

“What did you remember?”

Zhengting laughs, hollow and flimsy enough that it evaporates on his tongue. He rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly and Eunki thinks very hard about crossing his arms and not reaching out for the hesitant tease of fingertips. “It's nothing really. It is silly.”

“I'm naked,” Eunki says flatly. “I don't think it is sillier than that.”

Zhengting shrugs. “You will be really surprised and you will laugh at me.”

“What if I promise not to laugh?” Eunki offers. Zhengting seems to consider this in the pause and gomme syrup swift his reply slips through his lips.

“I might tell you after you put on the clothes.”

It is good enough for Eunki and he makes his way to the large bedroom. His feet sink into the dense carpet and he lays the garment bag on the bed beside the socks and underpants that are inside a small bag. He hesitates over actually putting any of the clothes on. It is the reason he is here but he would still prefer to put on his own clothes and not have to worry about inconveniencing a stranger. But Zhengting made a fuss over not being strangers. They know nothing besides each other's names and Eunki wonders how much more they will learn.

There is no point in wading through his own thoughts and getting laden down by the saturation of molasses making everything slow and indistinct. He dissolves the saccharine swells in his mind and dresses. The suit doesn’t quite fit and though Eunki doesn’t have much experience these days he can tell that there has been some tailoring to accentuate the waist and the trousers show a flash of ankle that Eunki suspects is supposed to be more significant on person they were made for.

It seems silly to wear the suit at all but Eunki might as well make the most of the situation. The weight of the suit across his shoulders is the comforting warmth of being dipped in melted chocolate.  He casts a glazed look over his reflection in the huge gilt mirror beside the bed. He doesn’t look bad even though the fit isn’t perfect. He should wear suits more often, perhaps complement the look with the fructose flourish of a tie or an ascot alongside the creamy smooth of Egyptian cotton and the rich weight of wool draping over him.

And then he notices something behind him in the room. In the mirror reflection he sees a scrap of paper on the vanity table on the other side of the bed. He walks slowly and swallows back the bitterness of his inquisitiveness.

The paper has an oily feel and he feels the abrasive grains of crumbs as he slides the slip between his fingers. Eunki doesn’t know what he expected when he finds that he can’t read the words. He fumbles at the knock on the door and the paper flutters in his hands before he pushes it into the blazer pocket. The door opens and Zhengting smiles.

“You look… The suit is good,” Zhengting says. He lets himself into the room and stands before Eunki with a liquid liquorice stare.

“Thank you for lending this to me. You didn’t have to.”

Zhengting really didn’t have to lend Eunki the suit but here they are standing in Zhengting’s suite with Zhengting’s suit embracing Eunki’s back and Zhengting smiling at Eunki with marzipan brightness.

“Do you like the suit? Maybe you should keep it,” Zhengting says.

“I really shouldn’t” Eunki says, dropping the gaze. He looks down at their feet, the airy cotton on his own feet and the patent glaze of Zhengting’s shoes. “Jungjung, it was really too kind of you to let me wear this. I can be very fancy while I try to get organised.”

“What are you organising?” Zhengting asks. “Are you coming to my party?”

Eunki frowns. “Why would I come to your party?”

Eunki is happy to never to return to that banquet hall. Just because he is now clothed it does not change the fact that he was naked in front of Zhengting’s family and friends when he really should not have been.  

“I would be happy if you come with me,” Zhengting says. “Will it not make you happy?”

It won’t make Eunki happy at all. He needs to call Wontak to complain about how awful today has mostly been. He doesn’t even think he will be able to show his face at the bachelorette party to apologise.

“It won’t,” Eunki says.

Zhengting pouts for a moment. “What will make you happy? Shall we do something else instead?”

“Why are you asking me?” Eunki asks. He waves his hands in front of his face to brush away the question. “Forget that, you were going to tell me something before.”

Zhengting looks away and appears more interested in the frosting of the crystal candelabra on the wall. “Oh, was I?” he says airily. “I have forgotten it now. Instead of going back to the party would you like to go somewhere else to eat?”

Eunki frowns. He doesn't know Zhengting well at all but his insistence is becoming suspicious.

“Why don't you want to go back to your friends and family? I really do intend to return your suit. I will give you my number and my address if you're worried.”

“Yes, you should do that,” Zhengting agrees, not sounding worried in the slightest. He hands over his phone and watches eagerly as Eunki inputs his name and number. He smiles at the screen when his phone is back in his hands and he looks reluctant to dip his hand back into his pocket. “What will we do in the meantime? It is Spring and we are both young and - oh!’

“What?” Eunki asks, alarmed. Until his exclamation Zhengting had appeared perfectly happy, ice white teeth biting at the nougat air with his chattering. It is different now and his countenance is jellied.

“Do you have a… friend?”

Eunki does not quite understand the question, nor does he understand the sprinkling of desiccated obfuscation. “I have lots of friends, Jungjung.”

Zhengting nods. “Of course you do. But I mean different sort of friends. Do you have any friends that you kiss?”

“No,” Eunki says. “What sort of question is that?”

Zhengting doesn't look inclined to answer that and more questions cloy thickly at the back of Eunki’s throat with muscovado mystification. There is determination, meringue stiff and already crumbling at the edges, on Zhengting’s face.

“Eunki, can you tell me a secret? Is there a person in your life who you want to kiss?”

“How can you ask that? We're strangers,” Eunki blusters. Zhengting’s brow creases but he doesn't step away. It is up to Eunki to put some distance between them, roll thin the air between them until the tension flakes and bubbles into a manageable nothingness.

“We're not strangers,” Zhengting says. “You are Hong Eunki who dances in cakes. I am Zhu Zhengting and you call me Jungjung.”

Zhengting’s voice is buttercream sweet and whipped light as it gusts against Eunki’s ears. His eyes are twinkling dark in the elegance of his candied countenance. Zhengting is a beautiful man and his words are easy to swallow down as Eunki finds himself agreeing.

“So you can ask about who I want to kiss because we're not strangers?”

“That's right,” Zhengting says. “Is there a person you want to kiss?”

There is a person who Eunki wants to kiss. He is a man whose words drip out like honey, golden wealth, and Eunki feels sticky and too hot just by hearing them despite being certain of how nice it would be to boil from the sounds. But admitting that much is far too revealing of a thought.

Jumping out of cakes naked and dancing for money is a little different to telling a stranger what he really wants to do. Jumping out of cakes is a job that Eunki carries out by following the recipe he created from experience. This is something he hasn’t tried without tart liqueur pooling on his lips and lathing over his tongue.

Eunki again regrets not drinking some of the miniature bottles of booze he had access to earlier. All he has now are his own sharply sober thoughts and sherbet effervescing in his stomach.

He dips his hands into his pocket and withdraws the slip of paper he found while he was changing. He passes it to Zhengting.

“Before I answer your question, can you tell me what this says?”

Zhengting’s eyes widen and he jumps away. “Oh, you need shoes.”

Eunki watches as Zhengting disappears and reappears with several pairs of shoes and holds them up for Eunki to look at. He settles for matte oxfords and says, “Will you tell me?”

“It’s nothing important,” Zhengting says as he offers a shoe horn. “It is from a fortune cookie I had last week.”

“And you still have it?” Eunki asks. “You don’t live at this hotel, do you?”

“I don’t,” Zhengting confirms.

“But you still have this message from a fortune cookie? Is it very special to you?”

Zhengting puts the other pairs of shoes away and shrugs. “It’s something about love. Probably. It really doesn’t matter, Eunki.”

“Fine,” Eunki says, because it is. “If you won’t tell me what it says I’m not going to tell you if there is a person I want to kiss.”

Zhengting looks at Eunki with a slight pout that works against the glace of cherries in his cheeks. “I won’t tell you what it says. You should come to eat dinner with me. I bet I can guess whether there is someone that you want to kiss by the end of the night.

It is already quite late and the early Spring sky doesn’t give the illusion of more time to work out the question. Zhengting has family waiting for his return so they can celebrate his birthday. Eunki has a disappointed bachelorette party to apologise to. But Eunki has been charmed by the taste of whims that are too easy to follow.

Eunki agrees to go to dinner with Zhengting. At the end of the night when Zhengting declares that he knew all along that there was a person Eunki wanted to kiss it is Eunki who catches Zhengting by the mouth and has him melting. When Eunki pulls away, Zhengting is blinking away his dusting of surprise and says, "The fortune cookie was right about you."


End file.
